


This Night Is Not So Holy

by nivu_vu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: But as a pretense for two idiots being idiots, Choking, Christmas, Fluff, Horrible holiday ideas, Lonely Eyes fluff though, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans!Elias, Vaginal Sex, but very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nivu_vu/pseuds/nivu_vu
Summary: Elias doesn't celebrate Christmas; neither does Peter. These two facts do not stop Peter from doing it anyways.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 7
Kudos: 123





	This Night Is Not So Holy

Elias finds Peter predictable.

Which is why he is only mildly surprised when he walks in on Peter Lukas sitting - no - _lounging_ on his desk, in an entirely inappropriate bastardization of a Santa Claus costume.

“Oh, what the hell?” he asks, because predictable isn’t mutually exclusive with annoying.

“Elias!” Peter says jovially (the only tone he ever manages to convey). “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You’re in my office.”

“Ah, just as well.”

Elias would leave - he really would, but, again, this is _his_ office. “How do I get rid of you?”

“It’s simple.” And Elias knows this will not be simple at all. “Allow me to give you your dues.”

“I never knew the Lukas family delivered their gracious donations in person.”

“Oh, this isn’t that,” Peter says with enough convincing ignorance that Elias truly believes he is a fool.

“I’m here to judge you.”

“You? Judging _me _? I’m not the one in a-"__

____

____

“It’s my job to decide whether you’ve been naughty or nice.” Peter finally sits up. He pats his thigh, which is covered in garrish red fabric that hurts Elias’s eyes to see and his sensibilities to acknowledge. “So come on, take a seat." 

“I’m not doing-” 

“I’ll leave if you do.” 

It must be an insidious power of the Lonely, to be able to dangle the freedom of solitude. The isolation is tantalizing. That’s why Elias plays along. He seethes the whole walk over to Peter, who spreads his legs to give berth for Elias. 

Elias, for his part, stands between Peter’s knees, staring up at him impatiently. Not that Peter has any intention of hurrying along. It’s all that fog he huffs in the Lonely ambling his brain. Peter stares right back down at Elias - up and down him, in fact. 

Elias opens his mouth to speak, which is, of course, when Peter scoops him effortlessly onto a thigh, arm coming to rest in the crook of Elias’s waist. 

Predictable. 

Elias was _not_ caught off-guard. He clears his throat before speaking. 

“So?" 

“So,” Peter says. “Have you been naughty or nice?” 

“I’m no closer to completing my ritual, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Oh,” Peter continues, ignoring Elias entirely, ”why do I bother? We both know you’ve been naughty.” 

Elias rolls his eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your judgment. Are you going to hand me a lump of coal now?” 

Peter’s free hand comes up to cup Elias’s chin. “Oh, I have a much more fitting punishment for someone who’s been as bad as you.” 

This one, Elias will have to blame on the Eye and its unquenchable curiosity. “And what would that be?” he asks, each syllable brushing against the tip of Peter’s thumb. 

“I’m sure you know already. Isn’t it your job to know?” 

Knowing - pulling a thread of knowledge from the fabric of reality - is a gift Elias isn’t prepared to reject. Far from it. But there’s a satisfaction, both human and Beholding, to hear the knowledge spoken aloud. Peter frustrates him like this, whether because he understands too little or too much. He hides; he avoids. He’s more than happy to leave a conversation half-done and never finished. He’s insufferable, despite barely occupying space enough to count as a person anymore. And yet - and Elias loathes it - he feels all too real once he can leech off Elias’s determined tether to the extant. And really, Elias wishes Peter would be gone, as he prefers. Fade himself away into the nothing. Give Elias his damn office back. Though it’s never about what either prefers. 

So Peter is insatiably present now, crowding Elias with his _self_ , something Elias would have accidentally called charisma at one point. He’s not so blind now, not with that awful bright garb blaring into his eyes - he calls it a nuisance. And it pisses him off every time. 

He bites the tip of Peter’s thumb. Hook, line, and sinker. 

It pisses him off more, that Peter would appreciate such a nautical metaphor. 

Peter laughs. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

He takes his hand from Elias’s face and maneuvers Elias into straddling his thighs. Elias wraps his arms loosely around Peter’s neck and swears that the collar of Peter’s costume is scratchy enough that it penetrates the sleeve of Elias’s suit. 

Peter pets Elias’s hip absentmindedly. “Don’t worry. I’m not cruel.” 

Elias scoffs. 

“I’ll be gentle.” Peter sounds too conversational for someone Elias can feel growing hard against his thigh. 

And Elias is sure he sounds too collected for someone getting wet enough to soak through his pants: “Don’t.” 

It takes half a moment for Peter to undo Elias’s belt and pants (practice, practice). He hesitates even less when it comes to sinking two fingers deep into Elias’s cunt. 

Impatient bastard. 

“Impatient bastard.” 

“Speak for yourself, love.” Peter curls his fingers, and Elias hisses. 

If he’s impatient, it’s Peter’s terrible influence. If he finds himself grinding down on Peter’s hand - well, they’ve known each other an unfortunately long amount of time by now. Peter’s rubbing him- Peter’s rubbed off on him. 

A third finger soon joins the first two, and Elias starts to ride them in earnest. Peter’s brutish large hands are good for one thing - (he wraps the free one around Elias’s neck) - two things. With the weight of the heel of Peter’s hand against Elias’s throat, Elias is pushed that much further to wanting - yes, he admits - to wanting his orgasm. 

This must be the real punishment, allowing Elias the stage to show he’s still only human. And he is _unbearably_ human right now. He rolls his hips, clenching down so that Peter’s fingers press into him perfectly again and again. It’s good - good enough that Elias forgets to stifle his voice. It doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Maybe I was wrong,” Peter says. “You’re proving yourself to be such a good boy.” 

He squeezes down on Elias’s throat before Elias can even think to speak. 

“Don’t ruin it.” 

Peter shoves his fingers in deep one last time, and Elias comes undone, a moment Peter immediately squanders by stealing his hand back and quickly turning them around, slamming Elias’s back onto his own desk. 

His papers are a _mess_. 

A hand on Elias’s chest keeps him down. He wasn’t planning on moving anyways. 

Peter says, “You know, because I’m such a caring man, I brought you a present.” 

“Don’t say-” 

“The gift of my cock, that’s right-” 

“Oh, _sod off_.” 

Elias doesn’t have the time to be angry. Peter has already pulled said gift out, and he slides in to the hilt in one smooth motion (practice, practice, practice). 

Peter leans down, uncaring of the way Elias’s shaking thighs can’t even wrap themselves properly around him. As a final bow on it, Peter kisses Elias lightly on the lips. 

“Merry Christmas, Elias Bouchard.” 

“Fuck you, Peter Lukas.” 

Peter laughs and kisses Elias like he means it. No more of his play left as he takes Elias for his own. A little present to himself, Elias Knows. 

He takes Elias roughly, and Elias claws his fingers into the ugly fabric at Peter’s shoulder, clinging for some sort of purchase. Peter’s mouth moves down to Elias’s neck, where he bites and sucks and marks, a mirror to the hand bruising its signature on Elias’s hip. His teeth nick Elias’s skin deeper than Elias was prepared for, and he cries out. Selfish savage that he is, Peter bites _harder_. And selfishly, Elias comes again, forced to suffer through the overstimulation as his orgasm encourages Peter to chase his own, roughly, always roughly. 

He comes deep inside Elias, punctuating this whole event with a deep sigh, his asinine whims finally satisfied. 

They stay like that for a few minutes. Peter breathes in the heated air at Elias’s neck; Elias brings a hand up to rest in Peter’s hair. Elias feels safe enough to smile like this, where Peter can’t see. 

Per the norm, Peter is the one who breaks the peace first. Like a rolling wave, Peter had said before, using yet another unnecessary nautical metaphor. Like a rolling wave, Peter must move on or some other bullshite. 

Peter pulls out and tucks himself away without any attention given to the mess of fluids left on him. It’s not Peter’s problem. He has the uncanny ability to sneak undetected anywhere he wants. Probably how he got here in that disgusting getup unnoticed. 

“I had fun,” Peter says to the air. 

“You always do.” Elias doesn’t bother sitting up. He’s not ready for the horror of slick and come sliding down onto his previously pristine desk. 

The cold of the Lonely starts from the ground up. It’s sluggish today. Elias doesn’t know why. 

“Merry Christmas,” Peter says, once again to the air. 

Elias sighs. “Merry Christmas, Peter.” 

**Author's Note:**

> It's still Christmas somewhere!! And this Was finished then SO!! Happy Holidays and New Year!! This is actually just a gift to myself. I spent my last brain cell on it.


End file.
